


tactical

by lambchops (lambmeat)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claiming Bites, Infertility, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jesse McCree, Oral Sex, Rimming, Trans Jesse McCree, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27759706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/lambchops
Summary: “McCree, what happened to your blockers?” Reyes asks, hoarse.“Not workin’, boss. I’ll break it,” McCree says, voice deadpan, “s’fine."He starts to crowd into his nest despite the severe mean-mugging he’s receiving from the Omega.  When he starts to enter the younger’s delicate personal space, McCree lunges at him with a growl.“Don’t need you actin’ like my Alpha,” McCree snaps.“I don’t want to be your Alpha,” Reyes says without thinking, just as harsh. “Shit, I-- Jesus, McCree. I want to help you get through this without you fucking yourself up.”There’s a shift, and distrusting eyes peer at him from the ruffles of worn cotton.“You have to understand that if they smell you, it can get us killed.”
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 71





	tactical

**Author's Note:**

> nub, slit, hole, cunt used for mccree

The winter wind is biting, stinging Reyes’ cheeks as he pushes through the whipping snowstorm towards the shoddy motel. The parking lot is scattered with old, unmaintained cars rusting around the wheel wells with their wipers sticking up like heads watching him move.

He sees the curtains of several rooms pull back as he steps away from the omnic working the lobby, unphased by the frigid conditions. Reyes and McCree, acting under pseudonyms, have booked the motel through the week, and Reyes just put down another deposit for an extension as their mission only seems to stretch out endlessly. They were planted in the middle of a town governed by a paranoid mob boss who seems to smell them stinking up his territory. Patrols have spiked in frequency, and reconning any potential hideout has been made impossible by the Serbian mobster’s paranoia.

That, and McCree has been falling sick. He’s grown feverish, huddling in the swath of sheets pulled off both the stained-yellow mattresses that adorn the barren motel room. Hardly speaking, mostly trying to sleep and staring at Reyes with an inscrutable expression as he paces, he reeks of sweat and musk.

It takes restraint to be around someone in the throes of illness, the hindbrain keen on recognizing and exploiting weakness. Reyes exhibits extraordinary self-restraint as an Alpha, something that has allowed him to get as far as he has in his career, and he hardly bats an eye at the stench of McCree’s natural body simulating a feverish heat to drive off the sickness he’s encountered.

McCree doesn’t believe that an Alpha such as Reyes can keep himself under control for as long as it will take for his fever to break. His eyes narrow and his nose scrunches whenever Reyes draws near to feel his forehead, and his muscles pull taut beneath the mass of blankets insulating him.

It was only a matter of time- McCree is not of the snow and freezing rain. Born of whipping sands and hot desert sun, he’s better suited for life on the equator, not inhabiting a region closest to the poles.

Squinting against the snow and hail, he trudges back to their shared motel room, trying not to acknowledge and react to the eyes watching his march lest he give something away. Only half of him is dedicated to keeping his eyes on the door reading  _ A14,  _ while the other half was willing his body to warm up as the world sucked any heat from his body.

Shouldering open the door after struggling to get his fingers to work with the key, he stops dead in his tracks as the floor of his stomach drops out.

McCree doesn’t move to acknowledge him, even curling up smaller in his nest at the sound of Reyes bootsteps entering the room. The pungent stench of pheromones makes his brain stutter, and he almost forgets to close the door before stepping further into the room. It’s so hot that the three layers that weren’t enough against the elements are suddenly burning his skin, itching him like nettles.

Heat.

“McCree, are you-” Reyes whispers, as if the neighbors can now hear him through the walls. The words clog his throat, choking him as he hesitates in his approach. 

“I’m fine.” The younger’s voice is growled, feigning strength as he bristles in his sheets. 

Reyes is struck speechless, mainly for the edge of panic slowly taking over his critical thinking. One of the riskier things about infiltrating the town was that the leader was a territorial Alpha that has claimed each and every single Omega and executed all competitors. Petrovic, the aggressive arms-dealer, knows the scent of all of his claims, and personally sees to every heat to make sure that they stay loyal to him and him alone. 

He knows every face, every name, and owns everyone.

To make things worse, Reyes is an Alpha. Not only could McCree trigger Reyes’ rut with his pheromones, but there would be no mercy spared for him if they are discovered, and it will be unlikely that McCree would be able to construct an escape plan in the midst of his heat. Tactical logic would be impossible to achieve in the throes of his heat cycle.

He didn’t know that McCree  _ wasn’t  _ an Alpha- secondary statuses aren’t a casual conversation topic, and often something of a secret for those who are not Alphas themselves. The organization does well to keep their hands clean.

It must have been bad timing on top of the fact that they should have been finished with their tasks by now if it wasn’t for the damned blizzard and paranoid patrols covering every street corner.

“McCree, what happened to your blockers?” Reyes asks, hoarse. Toes of his boots and works the gloves from his hands. 

“Not workin’, boss.” The voice is wet, likely from him biting at the sheets and drooling, a common response. He roughly clears his throat, excessively growling in the lieu of anything from his commander.

Unthinkingly, he starts to shed his outer layers, trying to pry his eyes away from the pile of blankets that shivered and growled at itself even as he moved about the room.

“Shit. Alright,” Reyes starts, having nothing but scattered, frantic thoughts. Of course he didn’t bring into account either of their secondary statuses- it’s  _ never  _ proven to be an issue in the seven years that they have worked together. 

“I’ll break it,” McCree says, voice deadpan, “s’fine, jus’... gimme some time.”

Reyes stops where he’s shrugging off his jacket, his heart seizing. So caught up in the possibilities this complication brings to his plans, he hadn’t even gotten to possible solutions yet.

“Break it? McCree, what are you-”

“Did it in Deadlock,” he says, voice straining as he hauls himself into a different position, “‘cause all it did was cause headaches.” 

Disgust and pity boiled in his stomach and flooded his mouth with a bad taste. The notion of McCree normalizing such a biologically traumatic event that usually only occurs in survivors of war makes him physically sick to his stomach. He doesn’t even want to begin to think about how McCree has always had three day-long cycles, a record time for Alphas and Omegas alike, and routinely so. He doesn’t want to think about why.

It was not his place as his commander to know the medical aspects of his life, with patient confidentiality barring him from knowing anyways. 

While it would... solve the problem of McCree alerting patrols to their location with his scent, it could cause McCree to shut down and go unresponsive. The base was a familiar setting that would ease the typical stressors of a heat break with clinical help and a sense of security. In the Serbian winter, surrounded by hostiles in a foreign environment, his body would lock up and he’d be unresponsive for days, most likely. They can’t afford to wait through an extensive break to that degree.

There are far better, more humane methods of ending a cycle early.

“No, McCree,” Reyes says, “you- have you been doing that?” His voice sounds small in his own ears.

“Yeah,” a sniffle, “what of it?”

“Kid…” 

“I’m fine,” he reiterates. 

Contemplating, Reyes evaluates himself for a moment, weighing the options of his body responding to McCree’s while they were both under such tantamount stress. The typically sweet scent of an available Omega is tampered and subdued, tinged just so with a sour undertone. Swallowing thickly, Gabriel urges his legs to work, approaching McCree’s nest.

“You’re not fine,” he starts, tentatively resting a hand on the plush comforter he’s surrounded himself with, “sounds like you haven’t been fine in  _ years. _ ”

“No one cared before.”

“I-” Gabriel has to stop himself from raising his voice out of disbelief and indignation, “ _ I  _ care. McCree, I didn’t know.”

The bitter tang of burnt arousal stings his nose as McCree shifts shamefully. He’s striking an exposed nerve. 

“No reason to, I-” He falters, sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t-- Deadlock did good in fuckin’ me up. Ain’t good for anything. You wouldn’t want me.”

Reyes scowls at the off-white covers.

“I don’t care about that,” Reyes mutters, frustration bleeding into his words as he tries to find the hem of the sheets to uncover the Omega. 

“I can’t give ya anythin’.”

Gabriel manages to find the edge of the blankets and starts to peel him back. Jesse looks a mess- flushed in the face permanently, sweating, and drooling out the corner of his mouth, he looks very much at the cusp of his heat past the angry tears that stain his cheeks in race tracks and the glower he wears.

Instinct rears its ugly head, and a clap of protectiveness strikes Reyes, hot like lightning in his chest. He starts to crowd into his nest despite the severe mean-mugging he’s receiving from the Omega. When he starts to enter the younger’s delicate personal space, McCree lunges at him with a growl. He draws his legs closer to his chest, and hugs the mound of blankets closer to him.

“Don’t need you actin’ like my Alpha,” McCree snaps at him, but he doesn’t bite.

Something twists in Gabriel’s stomach, and he leans forward subtly. The aggressive Omega makes his brows furrow, and without thinking, he squares his shoulders and looks down at him, exerting his dominance over him, as commander and as Alpha.

“I don’t want to be your Alpha,” Reyes says without thinking, just as harsh, before blinking in surprise as McCree averts his gaze and burrows himself in the covers further; Reyes tries to backtrack. “Shit, I-- Jesus, McCree. I want to help you get through this without you fucking yourself up.”

There’s a shift, and distrusting eyes peer at him from the ruffles of worn cotton.

“You have to understand that if they smell you, it can get us killed.”

Either the gravity of the situation they’re caught in finally reaches McCree, or the Alpha pheromones have, as he goes silent with frustration evident in his eyes but absent from his tongue. Every defiant snap is hidden in those dark, fiery eyes as he glares daggers into Reyes’ soul, actively resisting his own biology and ignoring the palatable reaction of Reyes’.

“You- you ain’t gonna treat me any different?”

“No,” Reyes says, perhaps too quickly, “I won’t. Not unless you want to-”

“No, I-” McCree sucks in a sharp breath at the thought of being claimed by his commander, the fact that it is even an offer, “I don’t know. Shit.” 

His scent is sweetening, filling the room with the vaguest smell of clementine and aloe. Reyes always thought that he’d be harsher, like tobacco and alcohol, something stereotypically masculine, but the scent profile he’s reading smells of sunshine and heat like a hot autumn afternoon in the desert, feels of warm colors and youth.

Gabriel can feel his cock stir in interest as the scent of the room ripens like a desert tree in bloom. A blush is immediate across his features as he can smell the arousal clear as day, and it feels like a punch in the gut as he’s overcome with raw, unfettered instinct, something that hasn’t happened in years.

He crawls over McCree and layers his body over McCree’s in a dominating gesture, framing his head between his forearms and peering down at Jesse, testing the waters. The breath in his lung wheezes out in a whine. Reyes’ bulk feels like that of a security blanket, something he has recognized since they started sparring- the weight of his commander pressing him down into the soft foam never failing to pull a hushed surrender from his lips. 

Here, he’s shifting and squirming. He suddenly stills. 

“Oh,” McCree mumbles dumbly. 

His commander is hard and pressed against his thigh, mere inches away from his slick, aching hole. 

The realization shuts something off, McCree immediately whimpers and butts his head against Reyes’ collarbone. Heat has almost full hold over the younger now, and he peers at Reyes with dilated pupils blown wide enough to hide all but a sliver of doe-brown iris.

“You want it?” his commander asks, uncertain himself.

“Yeah,” McCree pants, pushing at his sweats in a desperate bid to get a hand on himself, seeing as Reyes was content to just weigh him down. Maybe that was a good thing, as the rush of dopamine and adrenaline made him feel like he was flying away, only tethered to the present by the always-present thought of Reyes’ knot with his name all over it. 

“Let me,” Reyes gets out, rising to his knees to help McCree out of his fatigues. He swears under his breath as the fabric releases its grip on his body. His expletives are reverent as his eyes sweep over McCree’s lower half, now presented to him in full. 

Slick fully coated his inner-thighs, connecting to his swollen cunt in thick, stubborn ropes as he splits his thighs open and bares himself. His cock is standing at attention, hard and glistening in the bath of yellow light shining through the stained lampshade. 

“God- Reyes, please,” the younger pleads roughly, voice strained as more slick weeps out of his hole under the intense attention, “quit jus’ starin’...”

“Look at you,” Reyes says, brain unable to keep up as potent arousal clouds his better thinking, “you’re begging for pups.” 

McCree whimpers, shifts his legs wider apart. 

“Yeah, yeah…” he puffs out, flinching as Reyes spreads his puffy slit open with his thumbs to get a better look at him.

“Christ, you ever-“

“N-not in years— please?”

Reyes squeezes his eyes shut tight and groans, his cock twitching just at the sight of McCree’s sloppy hole and the sound of it being virgin-tight from years of abstinence. 

He was just making it even harder to restrain himself, and Reyes has to remember that this was entirely tactical— it didn’t mean anything, and nothing will be meant by it. At the end of this, it was purely to survive, and he’s not going to let years of idle fantasies jump out of his throat and make things complicated where they shouldn’t be. 

McCree’s eyes are glazed over with heat-haze, something Reyes has idly thought about an embarrassing number of times before. He has him entirely to himself as he has dreamed of for years, albeit under harsh conditions that will breed nothing but confounding nuance to their already intricate relationship as commander and agent. 

It makes it astonishingly hard to enjoy the quiet gasp of surprise when Reyes sweeps his thumb over the younger’s nub and the desperate hands that grab for anything they can get ahold of. 

Moving away, he doesn’t allow the whine of upset to stretch out too long, as he grabs a hold of the younger’s hips and wrenches him towards the edge of the bed as Reyes slides off the side. Jesse goes easily, allowing Reyes to manhandle him in such a vulnerable state with any complaint.

He’s gone, fully lost to the waves of heat wracking his body. It’s already shaping up to be an aggressive cycle, seeing as McCree has gotten into the pattern of breaking them before they could start. The last true heat he's experienced was years ago. Jesse’s biology is going to want vengeance for the wasted time. 

McCree rolls onto his stomach, canting his hips and presenting himself beautifully. Already, slick drools down in long lines and makes a mess of the mattress beneath his hips. Jesse shows himself off with an arched back and spread legs, trying to fit the mold of a good Omega. Low, crooning whimpers escape his throat, conveying his excitement. Running his hands down the cowboy’s flanks, Reyes tries to soothe the desperate trembling that wracks his body. 

Sliding his thumb through McCree’s slick, then spreading him open, Reyes steals a moment to adjust himself in his pants. 

He can already feel the swell of his knot.

Rubbing two fingers against his fluttering hole, Reyes breathes shudderingly. So receptive to him, he can’t help but press in, pushing past the tight muscle just so, just to hear the sharp gasp of exhilaration. Groping himself through his pants, his cock throbs and a lowly growl claws out of his throat as he plays with the body before him. He bets that if he could, he could slip two fingers into that wet heat, maybe even three-

“Don’t-” McCree pants, leveraging his hips away from Gabriel’s fingers, “wanna… wanna be stretched on you.”

“Yeah,” Reyes rasps, strained. “Alright. Christ.” Abandoning his hole, Gabriel lightly pinches Jesse’s swollen numb between his fingers before rubbing in tight circles. It elicits a twitch and McCree whines, a high, whistling noise. It’s soft under his thumb, and he pushes the hood back to stroke the full length of it, revelling in his sensitivity. Reyes would go as far as to say that it was cute- how flushed and pink it was. 

“You look so good,” Reyes says in awe, slowly dropping to his knees behind McCree. His hot breath washes over McCree’s cunt, inspiring a shudder of anticipation. His pheromones are so strong that Reyes feels as though he was choking on his musk, swallowing lungful after lungful of his potency. Leaning forward, keeping the younger spread open with his thumbs, he laves the flat of his tongue over his hole. 

McCree yips, flattening his upper body to the mattress to raise his hips higher, encouraging. It was such a foreign feeling, different from fingers or anything he’s felt before- not like the Deadlock mutts really had much to offer. Warm and wet and soft, Reyes’ tongue pets his entrance, just barely teasing it with the tip, before it disappears.

“Taste just as good,” Reyes groans, hardly taking in another breath before he’s pushing back in. With one hand keeping McCree spread, the other works his button and fly open to let his cock hang out in the air. Blood-swollen and heavy, it drips precum onto the floor as he pours all of his attention on the younger’s hole.

His tongue finds his cock and causes McCree to jerk and instinctively push his hips back into his commander’s mouth. The pointed nub of his tongue circles McCree’s cock, shooting pleasure up his spine. Then it curls underneath his nub, and Reyes suckles lightly, and McCree thinks that he’s being delivered to the gates of Heaven in that very instance. Keeping the cowboy steady, not letting him buck as he tries to, Reyes bobs his head as he sucks McCree off.

Stealing just a moment to recover his breath, he pins McCree’s hips to the bed and looks him over. 

_ Christ _ , McCree produces a ridiculous amount of slick, as if it has been building up for years and has finally been released all at once. His nub throbs in the absence of Reyes’ hot mouth, flushed cherry-red and shining with ample slick and spit. Reyes’ chin is thoroughly coated with it, absently licking his lips like a dog before a feast.

Jesse has twisted about and is peering at him with wide-eyes. He catches the motion and whinnies quietly.

“Please?”

“Use your words, McCree.”

“I- please, sir- want your mouth.”

The high, pleading lilt to McCree’s generally gruff voice makes his stomach bunch up in knots. Growling, Reyes finds himself weak to Jesse’s begging, the temperate Alpha in him bowing to the simplest demands as he laves his tongue bottom up, all the way to McCree’s ass. 

“ _ Oh- _ ” McCree gasps, both confused and delighted, “sir?” His voice wavers, uncertain as Reyes shifts, lifts himself up a little higher, and repeats the motion again, one eye lazily watching the younger’s reactions. McCree teeths his lower lip, eyes half-lidded as he presses back into it, clearly interested. 

“You like that?” Reyes asks, almost a little incredulously, disbelieving.

“Yeah…” McCree breathes out, sounding just as confused. Still, he tentatively pushes his hips back, whimpering as Reyes humors the idea. Focusing on the tight ring of muscle, he coaxes McCree’s body into relaxing just enough for his tongue. The reaction is immediate, McCree moaning loud and unabashed as Reyes licks him open. 

The thought of knotting Jesse’s tight ass makes his cock throb and drool onto the shoddy shag carpet. Peeling back once both of McCree’s holes are thoroughly slicked with Reyes’ saliva, he rises to his feet. Dazed, the Omega whimpers and instinctively pushes his hips back for the lost stimulation, only to feel Reyes’ cock slip between his crack and rub up against his holes. It causes him to go stock-still as it processes, his tight ass just barely kissing the tip of his cock as he slides it through his slick folds.

With the slightest bit of pressure, teasing his cockhead against the tight ring of muscle, he growls as he leans into the primal instinct to fill the Omega’s holes. Then McCree tries to force his hips back, trying to fuck himself back onto the cock without a single thought in his head. 

Immediately, Reyes snaps out of his small haze and stills the younger before he can with a mean grip around his waist, pinning him to the bed.

“You want me to hurt you?” Reyes hisses, rhetorical and irritated.

“I…” McCree gasps, starting and stopping as he tries to squirm out of his grip, “I don’t care- fuck me.”

Stealing a hand to align himself before pushing into the overwhelmingly tight heat of McCree’s cunt. The Alpha’s patience has waned and worn thin, desperate to get his own release as evident in how he stuffs McCree’s hole with his cock until he’s hilted in the wet heat. 

Too much, too fast, McCree gasps and wriggles beneath him, his hole aching from the impressive stretch he was forced to take without prep and the fullness he hasn’t felt in  _ years.  _

“Sir…” Jesse croaks before crying out, going cross-eyed as Reyes bucks his hips if just to make sure that he’s gotten everything he can inside. “Big… too big-”

“I’m not too big,” Reyes hisses through his teeth, drawing together a tremendous amount of willpower to remain still. McCree’s body spasms around him and his hole flutters around the giant intrusion trying to split him in half. 

It puts ideas in his head, about the possibilities of claiming the aloof Omega as his own. Rolling his hips into the body beneath him, he thinks about making Jesse cockwarm for him, his perfect hole milking him without even needing to move.

“Shit, kid,” Reyes pants, starting to draw out and push back in as slow as he can force himself, “should’ve come to my office. I would’ve taken care of you.” The words are stupid, clumsy.

“Th-thought about it.”

“Yeah?”

The drag of Reyes’ cock against his rim everytime he pulls out is intoxicating, the beginnings of his knot already catching on his hole.

“Boss, c’mon,” Jesse goads, a string of drool already connecting his lip to the sheets. “Need ya harder. Please.” 

Growling, Reyes pulls out all the way to the tip before snapping back in. 

McCree locks up, whole body shuddering after a moment of stillness, before he melts back onto the bed with a shuddering moan. His hips shakily lift in invitation. 

Repeating the motion and punching another shattered cry out of McCree’s throat, he picks a pace. Fucking him on his entire length, Reyes makes sure he feels everything he’s asking for as he fucks him hard enough that it jostles the entire bedframe. Using his hold on McCree’s hips, he leverages him back into his thrusts. 

“Jus’ like that-” McCree starts to babble thoughtlessly, “please, you’re gonna- you’re ruining me—”

“You like being split open by my cock?” Reyes asks hoarsely.

“Yes _ ,  _ oh Christ—”

The words run together as Reyes hunches over him. He feels just short of a hound pumping into a tight, hot hole with nothing on his mind but the carnal desire to fill him with his seed. Little warbling cries spill out from McCree’s lips as his commander loses sight on what he was doing, the purpose of fucking his agent in the middle of a covert mission in hostile territory. 

He feels his commander’s teeth graze the nape of his neck, and that’s all it takes for McCree to fall over that edge he’s been painfully balanced on. Being rendered mute during the initial waves of euphoric pleasure crashing over him, he finds his voice again in a shrill mantra of pleas, begging to be claimed as Reyes pounds him. 

“Gabe, please!” he keens, clawing at the sheets and arching up into Reyes’ snarled mouth, “do it —”

“Shut up,” Reyes snaps, cruel and sharp, all but pulling one scrap of coherency together. Hearing his name howled shocks some semblance of consciousness back into him, and he pulls away before he finds himself dealing with a spur-of-the-moment claim.

Fucking the tight heat of his body, his orgasm milks the start of Reyes’ knot into fruition. Before he can think better of it, he finds himself stuck fast inside McCree. Growling and groaning louder than he’ll ever admit to, he spills his load inside McCree, certain that he’s forcing it right into his womb with how deep he’s stuffed himself. It garners a strangled sob from the cowboy as it floods his hole, excess pushing out around Reyes’ knot.

“Shit,” Reyes pants, unable to stop himself from bucking his hips and using the few inches he has behind his knot to wring more weak noises out of his agent. Some of his cum drips onto the bed sheets, and it only makes him throb at the sight. He hasn’t had an Omega in god knows how long, and McCree just took the brunt of years of abstinence.

The pliant body beneath him trembles mightily as Reyes finally stops pumping his cum into him, and McCree is oddly quiet. Gathering just a handful of wits about him, he takes a deep breath and steadies himself.

“Kid?”

“You didn’t claim me.”

Blinking down at McCree in confusion, he scents the sour note of frustration. Voice hoarse from use and strained with emotion, McCree sounds pitiful, spiteful. Stroking his flank, Reyes tries to think of something placating to say, too wired from knotting the younger to think proper. 

“You’re in heat.” It’s a lame excuse at best and a painful deflection at worst.

“‘And that's all this was.” Hurt is layered across thick in his voice, and it makes Reyes cringe inwardly. “Right.”

“Jesus, I didn’t mean it like that,” Reyes says in exasperation. He should’ve known better, regret starting to gnaw at him as he realizes the consequences of his actions are gonna be faster biting him than he is going to be evading them. His knot won’t be going away any time soon.

“No, I get it.”

“Get what, McCree?” he snaps, irritation edging his words like a knife. It makes McCree stiffen beneath him, and the frustration bleeds out of him as he hears the smallest sniffle after a terse moment of silence. 

“Nothin’.” His voice is heavy and wet, and Reyes sighs. His idle petting turns into a massage as he tries to think of what to say. His thumbs press into the muscle of McCree’s back, likely to be sore the following days given how rough Reyes had handled him.

“It’s not ‘nothing.’”

A muffled shrug. McCree pillows his face in his arms and tries to focus on his calloused hands working his back. Reyes tries to mend the wound he inadvertently opened up. Rather than continuing with constructing a proper apology, Reyes finds himself leaning down, down until he’s blanketing the younger’s back.

“Wish I could, kid,” he sighs, nosing the shell of McCree’s ear before kissing the nape of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, anywhere he can reach as if it’ll mean more than a claim. The steady admission bleeds McCree dry, the frustration escaping him like air as he blinks into the sheets, confusion and disbelief momentarily silencing him.

“Then why don’t you?”

All he gets is a serious and soft sigh.

“Please?”

“McCree.”

“You said-” McCree starts, stopping to force himself onto his elbows and peer behind at his commander, “you said you didn’t care none if I couldn’t- that I can’t-”

“I don’t want pups.”

“Yeah-” McCree nods in a quick duck, as if it was all obvious to him, “no one will know, I can keep quiet. Promise.”

Soft lips brush against the swell of his shoulder, tracing up to the nape of his neck once more before stilling. There a thousand different reasons why- no one marks on the first mating, no superior officer is supposed to look twice at a subordinate, what if McCree regrets this-

Hot breath washes over the receptive skin of his neck, and the younger arches into it, begging. Lapping the flat of his tongue over the skin once in warning, he bites down. Immediately, the younger body jolts and tenses against the pain, but McCree’s mouth falls open in a scattered moan as his commander’s canines dent and puncture the skin. 

Some claim ugly- vicious and territorial with hideous scars that looks more like a mauling than a mating. Others hardly produce a visible claim of their partners, liking not wanting to mar their beauty and supposed purity. Reyes gets his teeth wet on the younger’s blood, biting hard enough to leave a nasty bruise but not hard enough to do more than leave marks of his canines and incisors in the young body. There is no need for such an expansive claim- McCree knows who he belongs to, even without the markings.

Jaw flexing, he can’t help but roll his hips and work his knot over as the rush of claiming hits him like a truck. The sharp tang of Omega blood on his tongue makes him growl, low and droning and instinctive like a big cat over a hunk of meat.

Pulling away just enough to free his canines from McCree’s neck, he sweeps his tongue over the little wells of blood building in the divots left by his teeth. Sweet, almost.

“Happy?” Reyes asks, feigning frustration and reluctance.

McCree only whimpers, nuzzling his commander with happy little noises.

**Author's Note:**

> [horny twitter](https://twitter.com/commanderbait)


End file.
